Volume 2: The Temucha Region—Aunt in Flames

Chapter 26: I Stuck It Back Together and Fixed It

“Everyone, they said we’ll be on soon.”

At Amae’s words, I looked over our schedule one more time.

Not that there was much to do.

An opening greeting and a short lecture.

A demonstration and question period.

Then a closing greeting.

What mattered was how much dignity the Emperor Faculty could display, but everyone else would surely handle that well.

“Hey, Bren. Which part was mine again?”

“Other than the demonstration, you only introduce yourself at the beginning, Gary.”

I answered while checking the opening remarks.

I didn’t think anything was wrong, but as our representative, it was my responsibility to understand everyone’s assignments.

We had also rehearsed the entire program as a precaution, so nothing appeared likely to trip us up.

I checked the clock.

The signal would come shortly.

“…Time to get ready.”

“Yes.”

I stood. Filiestra tucked the materials she would use today under one arm and followed. Gerald opened his eyes from his meditation, and Luluk closed her book.

One after another, every member of the Emperor Faculty rose.

As expected, none of them looked nervous.

“Wait, Bren.”

Mercedes’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

When I turned to see what she wanted, she stepped directly in front of me and reached toward my neck.

“Your collar is crooked. You represent us, so mind your appearance.”

“…Oh. Right, sorry.”

Had it folded over?

I had little experience speaking before large crowds, so perhaps I was unconsciously nervous. We were about to appear in front of a great many people. I needed to be careful.

“Everyone, the signal will come momentarily,” a staff member informed us.

A quiet murmur came from beyond the dark curtain. Laughter. Chairs scraping. Someone being admonished. All of it was on the other side of a single curtain and felt strangely close.

Behind the staff member, a magical amplification crystal glowed faintly. Apparently, it was a simple magical device used to carry one’s voice throughout the auditorium.

“Our special instructors for today are the students of the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty at Magias Academy of Magical Arts. Everyone, please welcome them with a warm round of applause.”

It was time.

Feeling a lukewarm sensation crawl across my back, I exhaled and stepped beyond the curtain.

“Your posture.”

“I know.”

I straightened my back in response to Mercedes’s whisper.

She could be fussy, but she often pointed out things I never noticed myself.

When we emerged from the wings and into the light, a vast auditorium opened before us. Small spectators filled the fan-shaped rows of seats, while their parents stood watching from the rear.

And then the auditorium immediately shook.

Waaaaaaaaah!

The children’s cheers overlapped with an uproar and thunderous applause.

Every child straightened at once. Some waved, others slapped their friends’ shoulders, and several almost stood before their teachers stopped them.

“They’re loud.”

“Hee hee. They’re all so adorable!”

“Rock, Whitesmith, don’t glare at the audience.”

“I’m not.”

“Nor did I intend to.”

The exchange behind me sounded strangely distant.

We hadn’t done anything yet, but the response was far greater than expected.

Perhaps society regarded the Emperor Faculty as something even more exceptional than we had realized.

The host made eye contact with me.

I brushed a finger over the pin-sized magical amplifier attached to my collar and faced the entire audience.

“Um… Thank you for that introduction. I’m Brendan Walker, first-year representative of the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty. We look forward to spending the day with you.”

A month and a half after the attack…

We had been invited to the Royal Capital Elementary Academy as special instructors.

◇

Give the children a special public lesson.

The Royal Capital Education Federation had sent that request to Professor Blanchard shortly after June began.

It apparently wasn’t an annual event, but Magias occasionally received assignments like this as part of its extracurricular lessons.

We hadn’t been given much preparation time. However, because news coverage had made demand especially strong this year, the professor had been unable to refuse.

“What an honor to teach the children the wonders of magic firsthand!”

Luluk could enjoy practically anything, but Gerald and Mercedes were surprisingly enthusiastic too.

“It is troublesome, but this concerns the nation’s future. I accept.”

“Yes. Enlightening children as to the proper conduct of a mage is also our duty.”

Those two seemed driven above all by a powerful sense of responsibility. I could learn a great deal from their attitude.

After slightly less than two weeks of preparation, we of the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty were now presenting a special public lesson at the elementary academy.

Griefia was the world’s greatest magical nation, but only a limited number of people could become professional mages. Most ordinary citizens could wield only slightly more power than a normal human.

Mages were national assets. Our task was to teach in a way that would interest the children in magic and increase the number who aspired to that profession—even by one.

Our first segment was titled, “How Does Magic Work?” Filiestra was in charge.

“Did you know that your bodies contain special blood vessels called dragon veins?”

“Yes!” the children answered Filiestra’s gentle question.

As soon as she began speaking, I could physically feel the atmosphere soften.

“Dragon veins are ordinarily used very little. But when blood flows through them, they create an energy called magic. We transform that magic into many different forms of power, such as light, wind, and flame. That is what we call magical arts.”

The children listened with utterly serious expressions, apparently fascinated.

“Learning to control your dragon veins takes a long time. It is said that producing a sufficient amount of magic requires several years.”

Hearing about dragon-vein control revived old memories.

Now that I had experienced more of society, I felt Grandpa had been strict where magic was concerned. My memories were vague, but he had probably started educating me in magic when I was three or four.

Thanks to that, I could supply enough power for Refinement by the age of seven. He had also drilled many other practical skills into me from childhood, including swordsmanship.

“Dragon veins differ between individuals, so everyone excels at different things. People generally believe that the qualities of one’s parents are strongly inherited. If you receive a magical education, begin by discovering what kind of dragon veins you possess.”

Filiestra was remarkably accomplished at teaching.

She didn’t appear nervous at all. The children were simply being drawn along by her atmosphere.

“Does anyone have a question so far?”

A great many hands rose immediately. Filiestra selected the girl who had been both closest and quickest.

“What are you good at, miss?”

“I’m skilled in magic that heals people.”

“Incidentally,” the host teacher added, “Filiestra graduated from Temucha Medical University at sixteen and already possesses a medical license.”

An uproar rose less from the children than from the parents at the back.

Apparently, Filiestra’s academic ability was overwhelmingly the best in the Emperor Faculty. Mercedes said, “I can’t defeat her in that field,” while Gerald grumbled that he “had no choice but to acknowledge it.” Where scholarship was concerned, Filiestra was an alien even by our faculty’s standards. From what I’d seen of her research, the gap between our academic abilities was large enough that I could barely understand it.

“Then are your mother and father also good at healing people?”

At that innocent question, asked naturally in the flow of the lesson, Filiestra’s constant smile froze.

For some reason, seeing her profile made tension run through me too.

“……Yes. I imagine that one of my parents must have been skilled at healing people. When you go home, why don’t you ask your own mother and father what they were good at?”

After the lecture came the demonstration the children had eagerly awaited.

Luluk, Gary, Gerald, and Mercedes each explained as much as they could about their magic while displaying it in practice.

Amae had originally been scheduled to join them, but she did not want to bring her chemicals out of the academy, so she reluctantly took a supporting role. She could demonstrate something safe, but apparently it would be “incredibly dull.”

First came Gerald’s experience of floating through gravity control.

Then came Luluk’s broomstick flying show.

The concept was roughly, “They’ll be happy as long as we make them float,” but its effectiveness was tremendous. The auditorium erupted with excitement.

Gary had apparently considered how he could thrill boys and girls already captivated by the simple, powerful unreality of flight. His answer was, “Let’s move our bodies using electricity!” He called lightning down on himself and demonstrated movement while clad in it.

He had actually wanted to demonstrate accelerating information transfer by combining radio waves with telepathy—something like a Mr. D*njiro science show. But clarity won, so he shifted the lesson toward physical movement.

In the end, Gary was so fast that I genuinely couldn’t tell what he was doing. Still, a group of boys shouted that it was “so cool!” I agreed with them.

Mercedes, however, was the most popular of all.

I had honestly underestimated her fame.

Her demonstration was a Hinoe-style sword dance performed with physical enhancement. Compared with the obvious magic shown before it, the act wasn’t especially unusual. Yet the children watched without a word and, the instant she finished, created a vortex of screams praising her.

Since the attack, numerous news guilds had featured Mercedes, making her an overnight celebrity. The enormous projection portraits printed in the newspapers from the following day onward proved it.

A noble lady. The Sword Saint’s daughter. Accepted directly into the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty.

Her titles alone were exhausting, and one could list her striking visual traits forever. Her powerful physique also made her exceptionally picturesque.

Mercedes herself was dissatisfied with her performance during the attack, so her feelings about the attention were complicated.

“I suppose I was the figure most likely to attract readers,” was all she said before returning to practice.

“And that concludes the demonstrations by the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty.”

Even after the announcement, the children remained excited.

I didn’t know how it appeared to them, but the Hinoe sword dance truly was beautiful.

Its underlying philosophy was entirely different from the sword techniques Grandpa taught me. The union of elegance and strength looked like that, apparently. I found myself genuinely moved.

Last came a short question-and-answer session.

Q: Gerald, what do you do on your days off?

“I require no rest. Every day is devoted to self-improvement.”

Q: Luluk, why are you dressed like a witch?

“Ohohoho! What an excellent question! The answer is that I am a witch!”

Q: Gary, are you a delinquent?

“I’m not a delinquent.”

Q: The little lady…

“My name is Amae.”

Q: Amae, what is the best thing about joining the Emperor Faculty?

Amae hesitated for only a moment.

“Expen— No. The greatest reward has been meeting companions whom I can respect and who respect one another.”

She had almost said expenses.

Though if we were being honest, that was one of Magias’s greatest advantages.

You simply couldn’t announce it openly in front of children.

“And they give us a very generous expense allowance.”

She said it anyway.

“Cakes…?”

“Ah, no. Expenses.”

“…? Do they give you cakes as snacks?”

Amae answered with a perfectly straight face.

“Yes. They give us cake.”

They absolutely did not. Stop making things up.

Many other questions followed, but Mercedes remained the most popular.

“How can I become a strong, cool mage like you, Mercedes?”

Mercedes folded her arms for a while and sank into thought before slowly rising.

“I am still only partway along my own path. I’m in no position to answer such a question.”

“However,” she continued.

“If your ambition is to become a fine warrior, sharpen your fangs every day.”

The atmosphere seemed to tighten with a snap.

“I don’t mean you must swing a sword every day. Monotonous effort can sometimes become poison. What matters is establishing a clear objective and always considering what you yourself lack.”

Mercedes spoke calmly, but her words possessed a strange rhythm, almost as though she were delivering a dramatic ballad.

“You are free to define your fangs for yourself. Strength takes many forms. Conduct, beauty, military power, and even kindness can all be called strength. Although you aspire to be like me, you need not become me. In the life ahead of you, discover the fangs that are uniquely yours and devote yourself to sharpening them.”

Mercedes added one final thought with the slightest smile.

“For doing so is tremendously enjoyable.”

Mercedes had said something incredibly good.

I wanted to say something suitably representative and feel the children’s respect directed at me too.

“Is there anyone among you called Kurozumi?”

I frowned at the unexpected question.

Did we have someone by that name?

As I wondered, Amae nudged me with her elbow.

“…I think she means you, Bren.”

“Me?”

“You walk around the academy covered in soot after class, so the students call you that. Maybe the news guilds spread the nickname.”

What was that?

I would have preferred a cooler nickname to become famous.

Well, never mind.

If the question was addressed to me, I would answer.

“That’s probably me.”

“Wow! It’s the real Charcoal!”

A respectable cheer rose from the audience.

Apparently, the name was more widely recognized than I’d expected, but “Charcoal” wasn’t especially cool. Perhaps I should correct it while I had the chance.

“My classmates call me the Rebound King.”

“No, we don’t…”

“So I’d be happy if all of you called me the Rebound King too.”

“What are you talking about…?”

Amae was giving me a strange look, so that was probably enough for an opening gag.

Did you enjoy my witty little joke, children?

“Is it true the Charcoal man fixed the big tower?”

“The specialist guild repaired it, but it’s true that I performed emergency repairs when it was blown up.”

“How did you do it?”

How?

Explaining properly would take a long time. What should I say?

“…I sort of stuck it back together and fixed it.”

“That phrasing.”

Amae’s retort hurt.

This was difficult.

Perhaps I should have simply used the word Refinement.

“Mr. Charcoal, what’s your dream for the future? Do you want to become a Grand Mage?”

Despite the question’s simplicity, I couldn’t answer immediately.

For me, it was difficult.

Becoming a Grand Mage was not something I particularly yearned for. But if I continued growing as a mage, the day would probably come when I was placed among the candidates and tested.

Still, this was a public event.

As representative of the Grand Magical Emperor Faculty, there was only one answer I could give.

“Yes. My goal is to become a Grand Mage.”

I felt several gazes—or perhaps those of every Emperor Faculty student—brush across me.